Forgive and Remember
by moonfan4eva
Summary: Yay! First Flashpoint story! Okay. You know how they say, 'Forgive and forget' Well, how could I forgot all the horrible events in my not-so-happy life? Why? Why do you hate me, God?
1. There's A Crime Scene in My Bedroom

**Forgive and Remember**

_**Ah. It's good to be back! I've missed you guys! But, not as much as I've missed… MY FLUTE! It was so awesome having my flute back! I have been playing it so much! Anyways, Flashpoint has been my new addiction. So, I hope you guys enjoy it! Love you, guys!**_

**Disclaimer: If I owned Flashpoint, Sam would be my age or vice versa and we would be married. :)**

_Shaylee's POV_

It was dark. Yelling could be heard from the living room. I can't believe I let them come over for a _whole week_.What's wrong with me? Why can't I just refuse? Ugh, Nat was right. I am too nice. Well, I can't say I get it from mom. Or dad.

"Well, why can't you just get a job?" Mom yelled over the television.

"Because I have a job. I make sure Shaylee does what she needs to do." Dad said, his words slurred.

"Yelling at me to make you a sandwich is not a job," I mumbled, then winced at my own words. That was pretty harsh. Well, you might not think so! Who am I talking to? I sighed, and pulled the covers tighter around me. Their shouting, if possible, got louder. Suddenly, I ripped off my covers, and marched into the living room.

"That's enough!" I said, just loud enough to be heard. Slightly. Sighing, I muted the T.V. "You guys need to go to bed! I have to go to my babysitting job at 5 in the morning, and it's like, three." I said, running a hand through my hair.

"I'm sorry. We're going to bed right now." Mom said, and turned off the television.

"Thanks." I said, and went back to bed.

_The next morning…_

I woke up to the sounds of sirens and extreme pain in my arm. I sat up. I peeked out the window, squinting against the bright light. The driveway was swarmed with police officers. I frowned. What did he do this time? I walked to the door, forgetting that I had gotten dressed before going to bed. I opened up the door, and poked my head out the door. Nope. I wasn't dreaming. Even SWAT was here. Well, there goes my babysitting job. The blonde SWAT guy turned and saw me just as I closed the door. I stormed up to my dad. I wandered around the house. Finally, I went back to my room. He was there… covered in blood. My _mother's_ blood. I screamed, and put my hand over my mouth.

I winced and looked down, and gasped. My dad had shot me!

"What did you do?" I shrieked. He laughed drunkenly and said, "Nothing you wouldn't have done." His words slurred.

"I wouldn't have killed my mother." I said bitterly. I looked down and screamed again. I was covered in my mother's blood. I would've fainted if I hadn't been so mad.

"What did you _do_? She didn't do anything to _you_!" I hollered, surprising myself with the force and volume of my voice.

"I shot her," He growled. "Isn't that obvious?"

"It's obvious that you're mental!" I shouted.

"Now listen here," He snarled. "I did what was right—"

"Yes," I shot back, "for you!" A megaphone amplified someone's voice outside.

"Jack White, this is Greg Parker from the SRU. Come out with your hands up and without the gun." (Does he say that? I haven't watched _Flashpoint_ in a while.)

"I ain't gonna come out!" He shouted back, his words slightly slurred. Dad paced around the gun clenched so tightly in his hand, his knuckles were ghost white. I was scared out of mind. He had a gun, and he also had a temper. A very short temper. It took what little courage I had not to freak out. I waited a while. He kept pacing. Abruptly, the phone rang, and surprised, I flinched.

"You! Get the phone!" He hollered at me, pointing the gun right at me forehead. I scrambled up and shakily took the phone.

"H-h-hello?" I asked, shaking.

"This is Sam Braddock. Is there anything your dad wants?" Sam's voice was kind and understanding, but had a hint of something I couldn't put my finger on.

"I-I-I don't think so. I think his temper got the best of him."

"What'd you say?" Jack (I can't call him my dad. You understand that, right? Who am I talking to?) Shouted at me, and the gun was pointed at me, and I flinched. His words were crystal clear and cut through me like a knife.

"Nothing. I didn't say anything." I stammered out, trying so hard not to cry. He murmured something and went back to pacing.

"Is there any way you can get out of there?" Sam asked.

"I-I-I don't know." My voice cracked and I started crying. Jack smiled a cruel smile that chilled my blood.

"Could you try?"

"I-I-I think so." I said. I hung up. While he was pacing, I slowly backed up and went to the back door. He turned and caught sight of me. He stopped, and I turned and ran. I ran to the front lawn, and I could hear his heavy footfalls, trying not to fall over as he ran after me. I ran into someone and I absolutely freaked out. Two strong hands reached out and grabbed my arms, stopping me from hitting someone.

"Shaylee, I need you to calm down." It was Sam. I could tell by his voice. I looked up, and he was the blonde guy I saw when I opened the door. I tried, but I heard him getting closer.

"Leave me alone! Leave me alone," I cried, collapsing to the ground, sobbing. I tried to take even breaths, but they out ragged and shallow and shaky. A boot appeared, I swallowed slightly, and a knee appeared. Then a face. As my vision was blurry from the tears, I could only see her brown ponytail and tell that she was kind of pale.

"I'm Jules. Come on, we've got to get you cleaned up," She said. She helped me up and I winced slightly. She led me to a truck. I stopped sobbing, but I was still crying.

There was a man at the computer screen.

"Spike, when are the ambulances getting here?" Jules asked.

"In a few minutes." Spike replied.

"Okay." Jules said. I sniffled.

"I could just go back." I said shakily. Jules looked at me curiously.

"No, you don't have to go back," Jules said.

"No. I don't want to be a burden." I said, sniffling again.

"Nah, you're not a burden." Spike said, and then added, "The ambulances are here." Jules led me out, and steered clear of my injured arm. I sat in the back of the ambulance as the medics tried to take the bullet from my arm. Key word: _tried_. I kept squirming and screaming. It really hurt. Next time, they should just do there selves (spell check) a favor and knock me out. Sam eventually came over.

"Shaylee, you need to calm down." He said, and sat down next to me. He told me to hold his wrist and squeeze if it hurt. So I did, and I wondered if his circulation was cut off. It would be a wonder if it didn't. Don't judge me! And, again, who am I talking to? When they were done, they bandaged my forearm. I let go of Sam's wrist.

"Sorry if you're circulation was cut off." I said with a small, watery smile.

He returned the smile. Except it wasn't watery.

"No problem." He said. He walked away, and I wondered what I would do with the house. I mean, my bedroom is a _crime scene_! I stood there as the ambulances went away. I looked at my house. I went inside. The police had long since removed the body. Why should I worry? Everything's done and done, right? I sighed and ran my hands through my hair.

"Could this day possibly get _any_ worse?" I said aloud. An arm suddenly was wrapped around my waist.

"Well, it could. But you better listen, Shay." A man said. I screamed, but it was abruptly cut off by his hand. He pulled me closer until my back was pressed against his chest.

"No, no, no. Shay, you can't do that. That would be a bad Shaylee, wouldn't it?" He whispered in my ear, and I shivered.

"I don't know you!" I said, but it came out muffled by his hand.

"Just follow me and you won't die." For such a solemn sentence he said it a _bit_ too brightly for my taste.


	2. My Kidnappers Stalking Me

Chapter Two: Worst Day Ever

_**Okay. So, I bet you're happy I'm updating, right? Well, I'm happy that Hunter Hayes' **_Storm Warning_** is on. I love that kid! Any who enjoy my chapter!**_

**Disclaimer: No. It's so sad, isn't it?**

Flashback:

_"Just follow me and you won't die." For such a solemn sentence he said it a __**bit**__ too brightly for my taste._

Flashback ended.

_Shaylee's POV_

I can't believe it! This is the worst thing ever! First, my mom gets murdered, and just a mere two hours later, I'm being kidnapped by some guy who calls me 'Shay,'. I hate _it_ when people call me that! I sighed, and just kinda sat there in the back of the van. I brought my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them.

"Who are you?" I asked, but was replied with silence.

"Why are you taking me? _Where_ are taking me?" I asked hesitantly and softly.

"I'm taking you away from the horrible world, Shay. And you know, stop acting dumb."

"I don't know you! Stop calling me Shay! I don't know where we're going!" I said, wiping at my eyes.

I could tell he was frowning. "You'll remember." He said, and I didn't say anything else.

I looked out the window. I saw a tear slip and roll down my reflections face. I wiped it off of my own face. I hate how people make me feel. I hate the world! I hate everything! I thought, and started crying. I covered my face with my hands and just let the tears roll down my face. He suddenly swerved and went down an alley, and I _thumped_ against the wall of the van. I let myself go numb. There was nothing I could do. I let him do what he wanted me to do. I hate feeling helpless, but I'll get ove it, won't I?

He stopped the van, and turned on the radio. He rolled down the window, inspected the alley, rolled it up and kept going. Hunter Hayes' _Wanted_ came on. I love this song!

_You know I'd fall apart without you_

_I don't know how you do what you do_

_'Cause everything that don't make sense about me_

_It makes sense when I'm with you_

_Like everything that's green, girl I need you_

_But it's more than one and one makes two_

_So put aside the math and the logic of it_

_You gotta know you're wanted too_

_I wanna wrap you up_

_Wanna kiss your lips_

_I wanna make you feel wanted_

_I wanna call you mine_

_Wanna hold your hand forever_

_And never let you forget it_

_Yeah I, wanna make you feel wanted_

_Anyone can tell you you're pretty_

_And you get that all the time, I know you do_

_But your beauty's deeper than the makeup_

_And I wanna show you what I see tonight_

_When I wrap you up_

_When I kiss your lips_

_I wanna make you feel wanted_

_I wanna call you mine_

_Wanna hold your hand forever_

_And never let you forget it_

_'Cause Baby I, wanna make you feel wanted_

_As good as you make me feel_

_I wanna make you feel better_

_Better than your fairy tales_

_Better than your best dreams_

_You're more than everything I need_

_You're all I ever wanted_

_All I ever wanted_

_And I just wanna wrap you up_

_Wanna kiss your lips_

_I wanna make you feel wanted_

_And I wanna call you mine_

_Wanna hold your hand forever_

_And never let you forget it_

_Yeah I, wanna make you feel wanted_

_Baby I, wanna make you feel wanted_

_'Cause you'll always be wanted_

The song ended and when _Why You Wanna_ came on, instead of Jana Kramer's voice, I heard wailing sirens.

"Detour," He muttered, and made a hard left, and I bumped against the van again. We pulled up to an abandoned house. It was large and… well, abandoned. He opened the van door, and grabbed my arm and dragged my limp body out. He threw me in a heap onto the foyer of the house. I just let him. He half-carried me, half dragged me into the basement.

He let me fall to the ground. He handed me a laptop. Then he left. Hesitantly, I opened it. He was recording himself driving the van. It went like that for at least five minutes. He got out, pouring a tank of gasoline on the van. He set it on fire. He was recording this. I got the feeling he was going to take every piece of evidence to a faraway place and record it burning. Then the video shut off. Twelve minutes later, he was coming down the stairs. He was grinning.

"Did you like the show?" He asked.

I nodded listlessly. He frowned.

"You're not as happy." He said.

I gave a half-shrug. He sat down next to me. I scooted over limply. He scowled.

"You wanna play hard?" Bad word. "We can play hard." He started whacking and slapping and punching and the only thing I did was flinch and cringe and cry silently.

"Come on," another bad word. "Do something!" He hollered. I sniffled. He smacked me across the face. My face went flying to the left. I gently rubbed the tender skin, and tried to make the tears go away. But what did it matter? He was probably going to kill me anyway. I let the tears fall, and sound escaped my lips.

"There we go! A delayed reaction, perhaps?" I said nothing. He nodded.

"That's what I thought, _Shay_." He spat, leaving. I made a silent promise. I would give him complete satisfaction if it meant he wouldn't kill anyone else. I just hope I could keep that promise.

I closed my eyes. Images that had seared themselves in my brain replayed. I squeezed my eyes shut and brushed away the thought. The next thing that came into my head was Sam. I heard his voice telling me to calm down. His voice calmed me, and I went into a light, uncomfortable sleep. But I was sleeping, nonetheless. I woke up to a small sound, like someone trying to be quiet, but failing. Someone cursed, and I jerked up. It was just the weird guy who captured me.

"Good morning, Shay." He said, and went back to his regular, heavy gait.

"M-m-mor-morning." I managed to stutter out. I could sense his temper flaring just below the surface. I didn't push my voice, as it still hurt from screaming yesterday.

"S-s-sir, I-I-I was wondering if you-you could prom-pr-promise me some-something."

"What is it, Shay?" He asked coldly.

"If I g-g-give you com-complete sat-satisfaction, do-do you promise no-n-not t-t-to hurt anyone else?"

"Why are you stuttering?" He asked quietly and it chilled my blood, and raced up my spine.

"I-I-I'm not st-st-stuttering." I said as loudly as I could without my throat hurting. He whirled around, his eyes blazing a horribly black gaze. If I imagined hard enough, I could see lasers coming from his pupils.

"Yes. You. Are." His voice was sharp and firm, like I was a small child who had eaten from the cookie jar before dinner.

"No, I-I-I'm not!" I said, crawling (actually, scrambling. _Shut up, me!_) Backwards until I hit the wall. I cowered in the corner, awaiting his hand or fist on my skin.

"I will not have you stutter. I will be back tomorrow and we shall talk. Then, we will get… Settled." He said coldly. I nodded, not trusting my voice. I was too scared to speak up so I opened my mouth, and then shut it. I watched him climb the stairs and slam the door. I curled up in a ball and started to cry. I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Sniffling, I slowly stood up, using the wall as a balance. I stumbled over. I looked in the crevice of the top wall. A camera! He was recording this! I gasped, and lost my balance. I fell down, and hurt my ankle.

"Ow," I said. I looked at it and flinched. It hurt really bad, and there was a mark on it that I didn't think belonged there. I swear I could hear him laughing from down here. I was freaking out. Why hasn't someone called? Then I remembered. 'Dad' was in jail, and mom was… The thought made me burst into tears again. I cried so hard, I knocked myself out. When I woke up, something didn't seem right. I tried to get up, but then I realized— I was pinned to the floor.

_**OMG! What's gonna happen? Oh, wait. I already know! (Face palm.) Duh! Anyways, review and follow! I want to see what everyone thinks! Eat a piccolo!**_

_**~Moonfan4eva.**_


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